Mystrade In A Nutshell
by CherokeeWind
Summary: Listen to the title. Really. It actually is just how Mycroft and Lestrade get together. In a nutshell. No idea how long it will be. Rated M for a certain reason ;) Remember, I OWN NOTHING, much as I'd like to.
1. Chapter 1-First Kiss

**Hello, reader! Glad to know that you are reading my story! I don't know how this one will go, but my brain said, "You did a Johnlock story, so now you need to do a Mystrade." And of course, because the brain controls everything, here I am! Please tell me what you think. There is no update schedule. It'll get done when it does. There's also no beta. I'm trying to keep everything a bit more British sounding, so help by PM or review would be appreciated!**

 **Kick back, relax, enjoy some Mystrade, and review so I know how badly I did.**

The DI pulled the finished cigarette from his mouth, dropping it on the ground and crushing it with his shoe. He pulled out a cigarette package and took another, lighting up. This was just a casual meeting, he reminded himself, his hands shaking.

Why was he so nervous? It was just Sherlock's older brother. Just Sherlock's brother who happened to have a gorgeous body, including an arse that was a work of art worthy of Michelangelo. Greg cursed.

A long black car drove up, parking next to the curb. The back door opened, letting a tall red-haired man out. Greg walked over to him.

"Mycroft."

"Lestrade." Greg rolled his eyes at that and huffed out, "The name's Greg, Mycroft, use it."

The taller man smiled. "Fine, Gregory." Smirking, Mycroft slid back into the car, beckoning Greg to follow. The silver-haired DI took one more long drag, then dropped the cig and crushed it. He got into the car and closed the door.

"So, Myc, where are we going? Not another warehouse, are we?" The shorter man broke the silence first. The British government smiled, a real smile, remembering when the two had just met.

*flashback*

Greg's phone rang as soon as he got off work. Groaning, he lifted it and answered, not bothering to check the number.

"Donovan, I'm off work and need some sleep. Tell me about it tomorrow, okay?"

There was a pause before a male voice answered, a hint of amusement.

"I'm sorry, Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm not your assistant. I do however wish to speak with you. If you would be so kind as to step into the car?" A dark car slid smoothly to the curb as the man spoke. Greg frowned.

"Why?"

"As I said, I wish to speak with you. I am not available to come to your work and prefer a more private location for this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" Greg inquired, genuine curiosity and suspicion mixing in his voice.

The person on the other end of the line sighed. "You'll know when you get there. Now, please, Detective Inspector, get in the car." With that the line disconnected.

Greg was still suspicious, but got in the car anyways. He could get no information from the driver. Eventually they stopped in front of an old warehouse. Senses on high alert, he walked inside to find a beautiful man in a suit waiting for him, leaning on an umbrella.

*end flashback*

They had mostly talked about Sherlock that first meeting, but Mycroft and Greg had texted back and forth several times. They had become close friends. Now they met up at least once a week for a meal unless Mycroft was gone for work. Texts and calls were exchanged in the meantime. Greg found the 'Iceman' as many called him, to be a lot less uptight and chilly than originally thought. If he had to guess, he would say most people were scared off by that and never tried to get to the man underneath.

For some reason, Mycroft had let Greg try. Maybe it was because he needed the DI to inform him about Sherlock, or maybe it was because the government official was lonely. Either way, the two now knew a whole lot about each other and would often tease back and forth for a long time, until one or both of them were laughing loudly. Other times, they would just sit in silence, communicating only through their eyes and body language.

"No, no warehouse this time," Mycroft finally answered, breaking into Greg's train of thought. The man was chuckling as he added, "but I'm still not telling you."

Greg grinned mischievously. "Not even if I tickle it out of you?" Mycroft squished himself into the car side, laughing and trying to get away from Greg's outstretched hands. Greg followed, tickling all of Mycroft's soft spots. They were both laughing, the sound reaching the driver and causing him to smile too.

Suddenly, Mycroft flipped Greg over onto his back and landed on top of him in one smooth move. Greg's breath caught. He was too out of breath to try to control his desire. He reached up and pulled Mycroft's face down to his, brushing their lips together.

Mycroft's surprise made its presence known as a gasp, which allowed Greg to slip his tongue into the redhead's mouth. That got him a moan, and Mycroft started to get into the snog, teasing Greg's tongue with his own and pressing closer and closer. His hands moved to the silver strands of hair, tugging to earn a moan of his own. Greg's hands slipped to Mycroft's waist, pulling him closer still before snaking under the waistband of his pants.

They continued snogging for quite a long time, it seemed. Eventually the car stopped, of course, it always did. Greg pulled back from Mycroft's mouth reluctantly. The government official looked thoroughly shagged, his lips swollen from snogging, his hair mussed, his eyes half-closed in pleasure. The driver had the good sense to not come around to open the door.

Greg peeked out the window, surprised to see that they were back at New Scotland Yard. Realizing his lunch break was over and that he had spent it doing the one thing he had thought he'd never do, the silver-haired man grinned, leaned down, and pecked Mycroft's cheek.

"Until next time, Mycroft darling."

 **So, what did you think? Please review, give me ideas for later chapters, correct something. I don't care what you say, so long as I know you're reading this.**

 **Loves! See you next time!**


	2. Chapter 2-Good Friends Do This Shit

**I'm sorry for not posting anything for a long time. A long time for me, anyways. I started this story a while ago, but the inspiration wasn't there yet. If any of you were there while I was still writing Johnlockness, you know it was a matter of days, even hours for that story. The ideas were flowing into my head and out of my fingers. This one took a bit longer to kickstart, since I tried to begin it right after Johnlockness was finished. Not a good idea. Add in school and friends' dramas, and the mind draining was complete. Also, I may not finish this for a few months. It won't be a long story, but I use my school computer, which will be taken away at school's end. Hope for ideas and inspiration to finish this in two weeks!**

 **Enjoy!**

Mycroft touched his kiss-swollen lips. He still couldn't believe it. He was now sitting in his office, staring at a file. For the first time, he had no idea what or who it was about. All he could think about was Lestrade, mischief in his eyes as he came to tickle Mycroft, then desire as the arms of the man he'd loved since their first meeting from a distance wrapped around his neck and pulled him down for the most thorough snog of his life.

Groaning at the memory of the kiss, Mycroft slumped over his desk, sinking his head into his hands. He had no control over his body, not since lunchtime. Of course, he hadn't been able to eat. The plan had been to stop at a smaller restaurant, where they would pick up the food Mycroft had ordered this morning.

Mycroft sighed. So much for that. He hadn't thought once of food. The only thing he could possibly think about was the DI's body pressed up against his, those perfect lips devouring his. And that tongue…

Mycroft moaned at that thought and thunked his head on his desk.

Anthea walked in, typing on her phone as she simply said, "Call him."

Mycroft snapped his head up so sharply, his neck almost broke.

"What?!"

She rolled her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic. You're obviously not going to get any work done. Just call him, text him, something."

Mycroft dropped his head back on his desk and groaned once more.

Hearing that, Anthea's head flew up. She stepped up right next the desk and slapped her hand down on the wooden surface. Mycroft rolled his head to the side to look pu at her.

"The entire country of England needs you to do your job," she hissed, "and you are going to put everything at risk for a _crush._ Either completely cut him out of your life or ask him out. But do _something._ "

With that, the woman turned on her heel and walked out with a straight back.

Mycroft just started banging his head on the desk again.

After a few minutes of that, he went to his secret cabinet. His medicines and good brandy were stored there. He pulled out his favorite brand and poured a glass full. Then another glass. And another.

Suddenly talking to Gregory Lestrade didn't seem like such a bad idea. He picked up his phone, trying to focus on it. His number one contact was the detective inspector. He tried to hit call, but missed by several centimeters. He silently swore. Or maybe not so silently. Did Anthea hear him?

That's not important, he reminded himself. Gotta call Gregory, that's what's important.

After several tries and another brandy, his finger finally hit the call button. It rang about 7 times, though Mycroft couldn't be sure, then went to voicemail. Before he could leave a message, his finger hit End.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked his digit, wiggling it in front of his face. He decided to try again, this time hitting the right button on the first try. The brandy must be wearing off, he thought, and took another glass. The bottle was almost empty by now, so Mycroft left his phone on top of his desk to find a new one.

"Hello, Mycroft?" Lestrade's voice emanated from the smartphone. The politician hurried to pick it up, tripping over his chair and falling.

"MYCROFT!" the DI's voice yelled. "PICK UP THE STUPID PHONE!"

Finally the elder Holmes was able to grab his phone and answer.

He meant to say It's okay, Gregory, I'm right here, but it came out as, "S'kay, Gre, here."

There was a pause before he answered, during which Mycroft swallowed two more glasses of brandy.

"Myc, are you drunk?"

"S'possi." He meant to say It's possible. Why wasn't his mouth working?

"Okay…"

"Wash da kis."

"What?" Gregory sounded more confused than ever.

"Da kish."

Finally, Greg got it. He almost started laughing, but was able to contain himself. Mycroft got drunk over their kiss?

"Okay, My, are you at your office?"

Silence.

"MYCROFT."

"Ye." Greg took that to mean yes.

"Okay, I want you to call Anthea in, got it?"

"M'kay." The phone was pulled slightly away as the politician shouted, "Antha! Gesh in here."

Greg was still trying not to laugh when Mycroft's assistant picked up.

"Yes, Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

The DI managed to keep a straight face. "Could you take away Mycroft's bottle? I'll be there in a few minutes to pick him up."

The female voice got chillier. "And just what do you plan to do with him once you pick him up?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Take him back to my place, let him sleep it off. I'm assuming he had cameras placed in my flat, so you can keep an eye on us. It takes 12 and a half minutes in moderately good traffic to get to my place from his office. Time us."

"Got it. He will be waiting." The call was ended. Now Greg could crack up as much as possible.

*10 minutes later*

Greg pulled up to the Diogenes Club. He shut off the car and got out, unsure where exactly Mycroft would be waiting. Luckily for him, he didn't have to wonder long. The door to the club opened and ANthea appeared, Mycroft collapsed against her. She beckoned Lestrade to help her, almost dropping the very drunk and tall man.

Lestrade ran up the sidewalk, thankful his job kept him in shape. He slipped an arm around Mycroft's waist and the politician immediately transferred his head from his assistant's shoulder to Greg's.

"Hi, there," the DI coaxed as if he were talking to a baby. "Let's get in the car, okay? Then we can go home and you can sleep. Does that sound good?"

Mycroft nodded, burrowing his head into Lestrade's neck.

After half dragging the taller man to his car and doing his best to get him to climb in, Greg jogged around to the other side and slid in, turning on his car at the same time. He waved to Anthea and took off. He drove somewhat faster than was strictly legal, but he was in a police car, so no one would stop him.

*9 and a half minutes later*

They got to Lestrade's flat in record time. Mycroft instantly went to the bathroom and started retching into the toilet. Greg followed him and stroked his back, whispering nonsensical words. After that, Greg helped the younger man change into a pair of pajama pants before changing into a pair himself. Finally, Mycroft was helped into bed. Greg laid down next to him and pulled him close. The politician snuggled up to the older man and was fast asleep in no time.

Greg smiled down at him before falling asleep himself, both of them unconsciously getting closer to the other.

 **Review, review, REVIEW! Please, I need feedback!**

 **Loves to my favorite sociopath, Thilbo4Ever! My first, and only, reviewer so far. And now becoming a fast friend, I'm thinking.**


	3. Chapter 3-Hell In A Handbasket

**Okay so inspiration is not flowing, but trickling. At least it's something. You'll never know when it'll start again. Then I'll go batshit crazy on you guys. Yes, I just swore. It fit, okay? I'm thinking of breaking my no-swearing rule. It was more of a mind stretcher anyways. Makes it harder to write when you can't use fuck, shit, damn, hell, etc. What do you think, my peeps?**

 **Anyway, review, review, review. Plez.**

 **Enjoy this chapter of my creation!**

The next morning Mycroft woke to a horrible headache and a dry mouth that told him everything he needed to know about last night. Or that's what he thought, up until he rolled over, groaning, and slammed face first into his favorite DI's chest.

"Bloody hell, Myc!"

Mycroft stiffened and slowly raised his head. Their eyes met. Greg smiled warmly. Mycroft freaked out and scrambled out of bed, getting caught in the bedclothes and falling to the floor. He stayed there, panting hard and trying to connect the dots. There was a rustling above him as Greg moved to stare at him.

"Are you okay, Mikey?"

Mycroft looked up and growled, "What the hell is with the pet names?"

Greg was taken aback. Pet names? What pet…. Oh. Those. He grinned sheepishly.

"I've always called you Myc, Mikey, or even My in my head. In the morning I have no filter so you're stuck with them."

Mycroft growled again, "What happened last night?"

Greg frowned. "Do you remember anything?"

The British government tried to. The last thing he remembered was Anthea telling him to call the DI so he could actually get some work done. HE hadn't been because he was thinking so much about the older man, his body and lips, the kiss… The KISS!

Mycroft jumped up and ran to the bathroom to retch again. After he finished, he stayed there until Greg pounded on the door and yelled, "Breakfast and painkillers are out here."

He stared at himself in the mirror. Why had Gregory kissed him? It couldn't have been because he was attractive in any way, shape, or form. He just must have been craving physical intimacy. Yes, that was it. The DI hadn't had sex in eighteen months or more. That was all.

Greg, meanwhile, was getting a bit worried. Mycroft was still in the bathroom. He wasn't throwing up anymore, so he must be thinking. Overthinking, probably, he thought, knowing that the younger man was insecure and would be trying to justify the DI's kiss.

Just as Greg was going to pound on the door again, it swung open. One look at the taller man's eyes and Greg knew he was right. Grabbing the pale wrist, he dragged him to the table. Breakfast, consisting of eggs and hashbrowns, was waiting there, as well as two painkillers with a glass of orange juice. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the last one as he sat.

Greg grinned when he noticed and leaned against the counter. "Trust me on this one, I've gotten bloody smashed before. It helps, no idea why."

Mycroft thought about it, then shrugged and started eating. Pretty soon he was shoveling the food down his throat. It was really good. Why hadn't he known Greg could cook? This was better than most restaurants served.

When the shorter man laughed, Mycroft realized he'd spoken out loud. With food in his mouth. Bloody hell. Greg continued to chuckle as he replied to Mycroft's thoughts.

"I wasn't going to tell you I could cook. For one, I thought you already knew. Two, I like going places with you. I learned before the divorce, because more often than not I cam home too late for supper and had to make my own."

Mycroft swallowed, then spoke before his next mouthful. "So what actually happened last night? I remember nothing."

Greg grinned mischievously. Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Well, the first I knew about it, I was getting a call from you about 10:43 PM. Of course, I picked up. When I did, though, I could hardly understand what you were saying. You were slurring your words so badly. What I did make out, though, is that you were thinking about our kiss." Mycroft groaned at that, burying his head in his hands. Greg moved over behind him, unconsciously stroking the redhead's hair.

"We'll talk about that later. Anyways, I finally got you to call Anthea in and she took your phone. I arranged it so I could pick you up. You were very drunk at that point. It took Anthea and I, plus a lot of shoving, to get you into my car. After that, I got us to my flat pretty quickly and ran you to the bathroom so you could throw up. Then I changed your clothes and put you to bed. You fell asleep pretty quickly."

Mycroft groaned again, lowering his head to the table, closing his eyes. He didn't bang it on the wooden surface, but only because the painkillers hadn't kicked in yet.

Greg chuckled and sat next to the government official. When the taller man didn't raise his head, the DI laid his own head next to the one on the table, looking at the closed eyes. Eventually, they opened and stared with desperation and embarrassment at the man opposite.

Greg knew he had to do something. So he slid forward until their lips were only a breath apart and whispered, "I still want you anyways."

Then he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips firmly against the other man's.

Mycroft froze.

He had never done this before.

What was this feeling? It was…

Mycroft wanted MORE.

He whined and pulled up Gregory as he stood, keeping their mouths connected. Gregory licked the redhead's lower lip, silently asking permission. When the British government opened his mouth just the smallest bit, the DI took advantage, slipping his tongue between the pink, now kiss-swollen lips.

When Mycroft moaned, that's when Greg knew he had him. Pressing them both back against the table, he pushed the younger man down onto the surface. The food had been swept to one side at some point. Half-laying on top of the older Holmes brother, the older man continued to quite thoroughly snog him.

Soon simply snogging wasn't enough, and exploring hands slipped underneath waistbands and shirts, stripping each other, struggling to keep their lips fused. Greg had to break off once, to pull both their shirts off, but otherwise they managed to keep the connection.

Finally, they were both naked and rutting hard against each other. Greg moved his mouth from Mycroft's to suck on his neck and shoulder, leaving bright red marks everywhere he traveled. His fingers crept up to play with Mycroft's nipples, making the younger man moan loudly.

In return, Mycroft wrapped his legs around Gregory's waist, pulling him even closer. He started stroking the older man's back, dipping down towards his arse then back up before touching it. This drew a groan, which Mycroft promptly swallowed. They broke away from each other, panting for breath. A string of saliva still connected their lips.

"Lube. Condoms," Greg breathed into Mycroft's neck, trying to remember where he had placed the items. Mycroft came back to himself at those words. He shook his head to clear it, pushing Gregory off him and standing up to catch his breath.

"No, no, no… I have to go, Gregory."

Greg stared in confusion.

"What?"

"Work. I have to go. I need to go, now!"

Greg watched as Mycroft quickly pulled on his clothes and left, the door swinging shut behind him.

As soon as it did, a hurt expression crossed the DI's face and tears came to his eyes as he let his feelings rule for a moment.

Then he shut it back down and dressed himself, going into work early.

But the pain pf rejection stayed.

 **Okay, so…. How'd you like it? I think it sucks that I only have one person reviewing everything. Yeah I love my favorite sociopath, but I need a bit more feedback from other readers. Tell me what you think, please please please please pleasepleasepleaseplease**

 **Loves anyway**

 **See ya next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4-Assumptions-Making Asses Of Us

**Okay so my brain is pushing me to write, but it's not telling me what, so sorry if this one doesn't quite make sense. Something I forgot to include in the summary is that this story is before John comes into Sherlock's life, so he's not necessarily clean at this point.**

 **Hope you relish this chapter!**

The next few weeks went very slowly. It was pure torture. Sherlock made it worse with his snarky comments and his 'you're all idiots' tone at the crime scenes. Eventually Greg kicked him out, threatening to search his flat for drugs. That shut him up. Of course, it didn't help that Sherlock knew exactly why Greg was feeling grumpy. Luckily he hadn't figured out who had caused it. Hopefully he never would.

Greg and Mycroft's lunches had been cancelled for the foreseeable future. There were no more friendly talks, texts, or calls. It was as if Mycroft was slowly erasing Greg from his life. Or trying to make Greg erase Mycroft from his.

Not that it was helping. In fact, it was making everything worse.

Several times, Sally and Anderson and the rest of his team had made comments in his hearing of how short he'd been and wondered why he was so crabby all the time. Sherlock, of course, had noticed, but surprisingly not commented

Greg had heard them whispering, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Now he was sitting in a pub, drinking to his heart's content. And it still wasn't enough. He still couldn't forget that cold tone and expressionless face. Nor could he forget the warm body and soft lips.

"Fuck," he growled and ordered another beer. It was his sixth, and Greg knew he got a bit tipsy after four. He giggled, bad mood forgotten for the moment. Not just a little tipsy, he reminded himself, a lot.

Somehow, when he walked in, he'd missed the tall redhead buried in the corner, nursing his own alcohol. Only Mycroft's wasn't beer. It was the finest scotch money could buy, and a lot of it too. He'd been staring at the DI since he'd walked in, already a little drunk. He'd definitely noticed Gregory Lestrade walking in. There was no way to miss it. Especially when you happen to be in love with him.

Mycroft winced at the thought. Love, he had thought, was a chemical defect found in the losing side. Now he was being proven right. If, and only if, he was actually in love, then this was why wars were lost, people were killed, and countries were lost.

Greg, still sitting at the bar, suddenly swung around on his barstool. His gaze immediately clashed with Mycroft's. His eyes darkened. He grabbed his beer, took a swig to boast his courage, and jumped off the stool, nearly running to Mycroft. The British government was surprised enough not to move. Greg jumped Mycroft, pushing him back to lay against the seat of the booth.

Within a second, Greg's arm was placed at Mycroft's throat, the man himself leaning in to growl threateningly in his ear.

"You're not getting away this time. We are going to talk, then hopefully snog a lot, go home, snog some more, and shag each other. Not necessarily in that order. Got it?"

Mycroft gulped, though not in fear. He nodded slowly.

Greg let him up, but stayed on his side of the booth, not letting him get out of this that easily.

The older man started in right away. "What the hell did you think you were doing when you left? Work? As if I hadn't heard that kind of excuse before. But why? I wanted you, you clearly wanted me, still do, I'm pretty sure," Greg glanced down at Mycroft's crotch and noted the tented trousers, then looked back up at the light blue eyes before continuing, "Yeah, so why did you leave?"

Mycroft inhaled, then exhaled slowly. He didn't know if he could explain his feelings like he could anything else.

"I, I, um," he began, only to be cut off by Gregory's chuckle.

"Oh dear, I've made the British government stutter. I must be powerful indeed."

Mycroft glared at him and raised an eyebrow. "May I speak now?"

Greg nodded. So Mycroft began his train of thought at that point.

"Gregory, you are such an attractive man. You've always been popular with the ladies and the men. I was attracted to you at first sight. But that morning, after our snogging session and my getting drunk, I looked into the mirror and couldn't find one thing that could have possibly drawn me to you. I figured it was just that I was nearby, handy when you needed someone. I still think that. You hadn't had a sexual partner in over 18 months. I thought… I thought that…"

Mycroft gulped and opened his mouth to say exactly what it was that he'd thought, but the older man interrupted him.

"You thought that I was just horny. You thought you were just available. You thought wrong."

 **Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's a short chapter. It just kinda reached a natural cliffhanging stopping point.**

 **Once again, please review. I really want to know what people think, and while I love Thilbo4Ever, that is just one person. A scientific survey or a poll isn't just based off one person, now is it?**

 **Loves anyway**


	5. Chapter 5-Setting Things Straight

**Hello again. How are you all? Not dead, I hope. Enjoy this chapter, okay?**

Mycroft stared at the DI.

"I thought… wrong?" he questioned, not sure what Gregory was getting at.

The older man nodded, his body swaying slightly.

"I've wanted you since you kidnapped me, um… Eighteen months ago, wasn't it?"

"A year and a half. You've wanted me for a year and a half? But why? It's not like I am even remotely attractive." Mycroft struggled to say the words. Either he was more drunk than he thought, or the DI had the superpower of making the older Holmes brother talk.

Greg sighed but didn't answer, running his fingers through his hair, spiking it up and causing it to gleam silver.

"Why, Gregory?" Mycroft pressed, finding he wanted to know the answer. "Please, just tell me why."

Greg's eyes opened wide. Mycroft Holmes had said _please._ He stared at the redhead, speechless for moment.

"Gregory! Answer me, for the love of cake!"

The DI stared at that one, then burst out with a fit of the giggles.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered, "I'm leaving if you don't answer me."

That's when he realized he couldn't leave, unless Greg moved. And the idiot was splayed out over the table, head turned towards Mycroft, still giggling.

"For, the love of, CAKE?" the silver-haired man managed to get out.

Mycroft realized then that Gregory wasn't laughing at _him._ No, instead Gregory was laughing at a silly expression that hadn't come out of his mouth since Sherlock was 10.

The government official stood for a second longer, then himself collapsed onto the table, laughing fit to be tied.

Eventually, they calmed. Luckily only the people close to them had hear the laughter, as it was pretty loud in the pub. They simply stared at each other, Greg lifting a hand to place it on Mycroft's cheek, Mycroft nuzzling into it. Finally the DI broke the silence.

"You ARE attractive."

Mycroft sat straight up in surprise, Greg's hand falling from his face.

"What?"

"You are an attractive man, Mycroft. I don't understand how you are unable to see that. You are the most beautiful man I've ever met."

Mycroft choked out, "Beautiful, me? You must be blind. That is impossible. I've never been anywhere near attractive, much less beautiful."

Greg placed his hand back on Mycroft's cheek, slowly stroking along the cheekbone with his thumb.

"Myc, you are everything beautiful and handsome to me. I don't care if you don't think so, you are. If this is about what Sherlock has said, you should know by now that he doesn't mean about half of what he does say. You are not fat, you are not ugly, you are perfect."

The British government sighed at these words, unconsciously leaning further into the hand on his face.

Gregory chuckled and slid both hands around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss and effectively silencing any other objections.

The snog started out chaste, just lips against lips, until Mycroft opened his and let his tongue play with the seam of Gregory's, which opened as well. The DI moaned, twisting his tongue around Mycroft's and doing his own sort of play.

Somehow, they got back to Lestrade's flat. The trip was entirely a blur, since Mycroft had a car come round and pick them up. This left hands free to explore, and attention was firmly focused on the other man.

Greg pushed Mycroft against the door as soon as it closed behind them, keeping their lips sealed. Mycroft moaned, making Gregory growl and push his hips against the redhead's. Greg's hands slipped inside the government official's waistband, groping his ass. And a fine ass it was, the DI noted as he slipped his fingers into the crack.

Mycroft broke off the kiss, panting hard. "Gregory," he mewled, pulling the silver fox closer to him.

Greg smiled and started traversing Mycroft's neck and shoulders, leaving love bites where he could as he pulled the British government to his bedroom. Mycroft couldn't keep still, writhing, trying to pull off different items of clothing, trying to reach Gregory's clothes. Finally, they made their way to the bedroom, ripping off trousers and shirts and pants along the way.

Greg pulled out the lube and condoms from the nightstand, playing with one of Mycroft's nipples. It turned out that his nipples were so much more sensitive than a woman's.

He dripped lube onto his digits, drawing a groan from the long, lean body beneath him. He grinned and slipped a single finger into Mycroft, just barely brushing his prostate. A second finger was soon added. Then a third. Each time they thrust in, they would just graze the sensitive gland, pushing Mycroft's hips off the bed in an inelegant motion.

"Oh fuck, I'm the first to make you lose control like this. You like this. You crave this. You want my thick cock inside you, making you come, long and fast and hard, don't you." Greg hissed into the ear of the squirming body. It elicited a deep moan and faster movements.

"Gregory, now, fuck me NOW, damn it!"

Lestrade smiled and proceeded to do as asked, slowly but surely working his cock into Mycroft's hole, drawing grunts and whimpers of pleasure from both of them.

Soon he was fully seated, snug against Mycroft's hips. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the snog-swollen lips.

"Ready, love?"

Mycroft sucked in a sharp breath at the endearment, but nodded. And Greg began to move.

Thrust met thrust as they learned each other's rhythm and tuned to it.

Before long, Lestrade could feel the edge drawing near. He began to fuck Mycroft in earnest, pulling the older Holmes with him. Mycroft came first, with a shout. He came all over both their chests, clenching tightly on Lestrade's cock. This pushed him over the cliff, and he yelled loudly, scaring his neighbors no doubt, shooting his come into Mycroft, thrusting furiously.

Eventually he pulled out, wrapping his arms around Mycroft's limp body and pulling him close.

"I'm a cuddler, get used to it."

Mycroft chuckled when Greg spoke those word into his back, spooning them together. They fit perfectly, he mused, in more ways than one.

They settled down to sleep, both satisfied and not ready for the morning after to come.


	6. Chapter 6-Sleep Talking

**Okay so I have another reviewer! YAY! Thanks, Ondatra zibethicu! No worries, my favorite sociopath, I still love you!**

It started with a phone call.

That was how the two lovers woke, Mycroft's phone ringing loudly. He sighed and picked it up, answering as he moved slowly to stand and get dressed. Greg groaned and looked at the clock.

It read 1:21 AM.

He swore and sat up.

"Mycroft, get off the fucking phone and get back in the damn bed. Nothing is so important that precludes your rest, especially at 1 fucking 20."

Mycroft froze at these words, the voice on the other end still murmuring on, forgotten.

"What?" he asked, slowly turning. Greg flinched at the frost and realized he might have made a small error. Still, he forged on, determined to win the war.

"Seriously, couldn't it wait for three more hours, at least? You need to sleep, I can tell." AS he spoke, Lestrade got up and walked to the government official, wrapping his arms around him. "Or if you don't want to sleep, we can do something else," he whispered suggestively.

"Anthea, hold on a minute, please. There's something I need to discuss with someone quickly. I will call you back." Mycroft spoke harshly into the phone. There was a pause as his assistant dissected the statements, then she laughed.

"Yes, sir, enjoy your _talk_ with Detective Inspector Lestrade." Still laughing, she hung up, leaving Greg at the other end staring at the device.

"How… How did she know?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "If you don't know by now, I won't tell you. Now come on, Gregory dear, I believe you promised me a little _something else_. " Now those eyebrows were waggling, think with sexual innuendo. Oh no, Greg smirked as he thought, I'm the one running the show.

"And here I thought it would be nice to get back to sleep." He faked a yawn and slid back in bed, pulling the duvet over him, back turned to Mycroft. He didn't have to see it to know that the man's jaw was on the floor.

"I, I thought you wanted…"Mycroft trailed off, still not comfortable with saying… that.

"What, sex, fucking, making love?" Gregory spoke as he turned over, letting the other see the predatory gleam in his eyes. "Oh, darling, I do want, very much," he growled in a gravelly voice, "but I do like my sleep. And I have an early shift tomorrow. Or today, rather. So good night, love."

He pretended to drift off, half listening for Mycroft to move. Eventually he did, walking stiffly across the wood floor before slipping into bed himself. Greg felt arms wrap around his waist, a cheek pressed to his back.

"Gregory, I shall never stop loving you." And with that, Mycroft traveled back into lala land.

Greg stayed there, frozen at Mycroft's words, until sleep claimed him too.

 **I know, I know, short chapter. REALLY short chapter, only about 450 words total. Natural cliffhanger. I couldn't help myself. Plez review!**


	7. Chapter 7-4 AM Talks

**Hey, remember that new reviewer I mentioned last chapter? Yeah, they kinda gave me the idea for this chapter. :D**

Mycroft woke up to his phone ringing. Again. He groaned as he reached over, looking at the screen of the Blackberry. A text from Anthea. He checked the clock. 4:58 AM. Sighing, he opened the text.

 _Will you be returning anytime soon, sir? -A_

He looked over at Gregory, still sleeping, and put his phone on vibrate before answering.

 _Yes, I will be back today. –MH_

Almost immediately the phone buzzed, signaling an answer.

 _Good. You know, he's good for you. –A_

Mycroft sighed before settling down for a heart-to-heart chat with his amazing assistant.

 _What do you mean? –MH_

 _I meant what I said. –A_

 _Yes, but what do you mean when you say he is good for me? –MH_

 _He's one who will take care of you, making sure you have enough sleep, enough food, enough loving. He sees you for who you are and loves you for it. –A_

 _Love? –MH_

 _He loves you. Obvious. –A_

Mycroft chuckled. She's learning, he thought.

 _That would be highly improbable. Now what was it you needed at 1:20 this morning? –MH_

 _No worries, I already took care of it. If you wish, I can clear both yours and DI Lestrade's schedules. There is nothing for you that I cannot handle myself. –A_

 _What would I do without you? –MH_

 _I don't really know, probably curl up under a rock somewhere and die. Does that mean yes to the clearing of the schedule? –A_

Mycroft thought for a moment. It would be fun to have a day off, but Gregory was in the middle of an important case and Mycroft had an imperative meeting with the Russians today. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought. He hated the Russians, but he had to work with them. It was either today or another day. Might as well get it over with.

 _Quite the morbid sense of humor there. No, as much as I'd like to. –MH_

 _You're the British government. You can do whatever you'd like to. –A_

 _Anthea, I've told you time and again, I occupy a minor position in the British government. –MH_

 _Yes, and time and again I don't believe you. Why bother? –A_

 _It's the principle of the thing I suppose. –MH_

 _Fuck principle. Actually fuck DI Lestrade, I'm sure he's more willing and more fun. –A_

 _Anthea. –MH_

 _I'm innocent. –A_

 _I can do whatever I like, remember? –MH_

 _Except get rid of me. You need me. –A_

 _Only on off days. –MH_

 _So, every day then? –A_

Mycroft laughed at that, finally jolting Gregory out of sleep.

"Wass goin' on?" he mumbled into the pillow.

Mycroft set his phone down and pulled the DI to his chest.

"Nothing, love, just Anthea. My assistant," he clarified when Gregory looked confused.

The silver fox just nodded his head and nuzzled into the redhead more.

They fell asleep like that, Mycroft laying on his back, arms draped around the one he loved, Greg nestled on his chest, their limbs tangled together.

They woke, still exactly like that, at 10 AM.

 **Yeah, another short chapter. Most of them are probably going to be like this. Sorry.**

 **Once again, please review.**

 **I'm outta words because it's 12:44 AM and I've been awake since 6 or 7 ish this morning. Or yesterday morning. Whatever it is.**

 **This story is turning out longer than I thought. No idea when it'll end.**

 **Loves to all my beautiful readers**


	8. Chapter 8-For The Love Of Bacon

"Oh fuck," was all Gregory could say as he flew out of bed and to his closet, pulling out trousers and a shirt. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck hell I am so fucked." His shift had started at 7:30, meaning he was 2 and a half hours late. Maybe he shoud just call in sick.

Mycroft still sat in bed, staring at the clock. He had overslept? Don't be silly, his brain chided, you never oversleep. And yet here I am, 3 hours late for a meeting, still in bed, he thought sardonically, burying his head in his hands. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it and read the short text.

 _Meeting over. Deal accepted. Both schedules cleared. –A_

Mycroft let out the breath he'd been holding, letting himself slump. "Gregory," he called.

"Yes?" the answer came from the next room. Mycroft got dressed and walked through the door, stopping when a curious sight greeted him.

Lestrade was making breakfast. Pancakes. A time-taking process. At Mycroft's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "Anthea texted me. How'd she get my number?"

Mycroft shrugged, sniffing the air. There was another scent, a lovely one. The smell of frying meat.

He let out a long moan of approval. "Bacon," he whispered reverently, making Lestrade laugh.

"What is so funny? Bacon is very good. An excellent breakfast choice," Mycroft questioned, cracking Greg up more.

Eventually he calmed enough to choke out, "I don't even know. Just so funny!"

Mycroft began chuckling too, getting into it and bringing out his full-blown belly laugh. This, of course, set Gregory off again. Both leaned against the counter for support, trying to breathe between giggles.

This went on until the timer on the oven beeped, jerking Greg out of the giggle fest. Still laughing silently and out of breath, he grabbed oven mitts and pulled out the pan of bacon, sizzling and crispy.

After draining the grease and placing it in the fridge for later, he set the pan down. Mycroft of course had to steal a piece, pulling it to bits then placing each one in his mouth. Each new bite produced a satisfied moan, making Gregory harden as he tried to continue making breakfast. Eventually though he couldn't stand it and spun around, grabbing Mycroft's head and pulling their lips together.

Mycroft gasped in surprise, and Lestrade took advantage of the opened lips. He explored, tucking his tongue into all the corners and crevices of the sweet mouth he had at his disposal. One hand traveled down to the redhead's chest, pushing him back against the table and laying him out on it.

Greg pulled back, stripping off his shirt and trousers before those pink lips demanded him back. He went with a groan, snogging the man underneath him with force, grinning when the long body started writhing against the wooden surface.

"Gregory, please," Mycroft mewled, trying to push their hips together. Lestrade only let it happen for a moment, before pulling his away.

"Not yet, you little cock slut."

That elicited a whine and Mycroft's eyes dilated even more.

Gregory continued, "Oh, I see, you like being called names. You like it when I talk dirty to you, when I use you like you've never been used before, hard and fast and rough. You want it like that, don't you."

The only answer he got was a series of moans as he spoke. Licking the ear he'd been whispering into, Lestrade added, "As you wish," and divested Mycroft of his clothes. He flipped him over, and growled, "Stay," in his ear before quickly running into the bedroom to grab the condoms and lube. He groaned when he saw they had crushed the bottle during their shenanigans last night. Then an idea popped into his head and he grinned. Perfect.

Returning to the kitchen, he pulled out what they would use instead of lubricant. The fresh bacon grease was cool enough so he set the bowl next to the man who was still laying, completely still on the table.

"Mycroft darling, I believe you'll enjoy this." Greg nearly purred. He dipped a few fingers into the still-warm grease and pressed them against Mycroft's hole. A groan came, making Greg smile bigger as his fingers slipped inside.

"What…Oh fucking hell, is that bacon?" Mycroft murmured, barely able to speak coherently from the feel of the fingers resting inside him, now pressing against his prostate, now moving in and out in timed thrusts. Gregory smiled at the loss of control, understanding he meant the smell.

"Don't speak. The only things I want to hear out that perfect mouth is the sounds of pleasure. No words."

Immediately Mycroft closed his mouth, then opened it again as a third and fourth finger joined in the fun. He was panting, trying to push back with his hips, wanting more friction, more stimulation, more… just more. He needed Gregory's cock in his arse. But he couldn't speak, so he expressed that need in other ways.

"Fuck, Myc." Greg groaned as the British government wiggled his hips and pushed back, his hole stretched and gaping, asking for something to fill it. Something other than his fingers. Lestrade had planned a whole seduction, but at this point, it was useless. Neither of them would hold out for much longer. He went for a condom, but Mycroft's voice stopped him.

"No condom. I want to feel you. I'm clean. You're clean. Fuck me."

The DI groaned and wrapped his greasy hand around his needy cock, stroking it a few times. Then he pushed it in slowly, letting Mycroft adjust. Soon, though, Mycroft had had enough of that. He made his readiness known, writhing underneath Gregory's body. This created a monster apparently. The silver fox growled and canted his hips, slamming them into Mycroft's, making sure to hit the prostate with each thrust. Soon Mycroft was shouting Lestrade's name as he came, harder than he'd ever done before. The man himself grinned evilly and leaned down, silencing that mouth with his own, just before he came as well, Mycroft's muscles clenching tightly around him, milking every last drop.

Panting, Greg pulled out, leaning his forehead against the redhead's. Both their eyes were shut tight, not wanting to open them and come to reality too quickly. Unfortunately reality intruded on their moment, Mycroft's phone buzzing in his trousers pocket. He groaned and Lestrade slowly stood, using the table for support as he walked to where the trousers had fallen and pulled out the Blackberry. He tossed it to Mycroft who checked the caller ID. It was the PM. He answered with an annoyed "hello?"

Greg got back to the pancakes as Mycroft walked away, into the bedroom. It didn't bother him that he couldn't listen in. He knew it was most likely secret and one more person knowing about it would increase the chance of it getting leaked. Not that Lestrade would let it slip purposely, but he had only a certain amount of control on what he said.

Soon Mycroft came back, fully dressed and put together. HE sat and sighed. Greg turned with a plate of pancakes and put it down in front of the older Holmes.

"Eat, then you can leave. Don't eat, and I won't let you leave until you do."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "And how would you do that, Gregory dear?"

Lestrade showed his teeth in a predatory smile, making Mycroft shudder. He caught the flash of desire before it was masked htough. Walking around the table, he leaned down and whispered into Mycroft's ear, "Guess, Mycroft darling." With that, he licked a long, slow strip up the slender neck of his lover, making both of them moan.

"I want to mark you. I want everyone to know you are mine. I want everyone who looks at you to know what you've been doing and that you're completely off-limits." Mycroft glanced back, startled. The words slowly processed. He hesitated, then made a decision and nodded his assent. Immediately he was assaulted, a warm, wet mouth latching onto the side of his throat and sucking hard. Teeth bit, not deep enough to break the skin, but deep enough to bruise and hard enough to send a jolt of pain through his body. Mycroft yelped, then whimpered as a skilled tongue licked the pain away. That tongue continued up his neck until it curled into the shell of his ear then retreated as a single whispered command came. "Eat."

Mycroft didn't even realize he had cut a piece of pancake until it was in his mouth. "Mmf," came out as he made a shocked face. Lestrade leered, leaning back against the counter in his original position.

Soon, too soon in both their opinions, Mycroft's assistant was at the door, knocking while staring at her phone, also a Blackberry. Mycroft reluctantly pulled it open, only to have it slam shut on Anthea's startled face as he was pushed back against it and a hot mouth invaded his.

They snogged for quite a while before the knocking returned, this time forceful and meaningful.

"Mycroft, you have exactly 1 hour and 3 seconds before the government implodes. Which means we need to go. Now."

The two lovers pulled away, Mycroft sighing, Lestrade pouting. After another kiss, this one a mere brush of lips, Greg pulled the door open and pushed Mycroft out.

"See you tonight?"

Mycroft smiled. "Hopefully, we'll see. Sometimes I don't come out of my office for days on end in this job."

Greg grinned, then smirked. "It's fine if you stay in your office, but only if I'm allowed in too. I'd like to come," he quirked an eyebrow suggestively at the last statement. Then the DI sighed, "Go on with you. Get. I'll see you later, Mycroft darling."

Mycroft was already walking away, umbrella firmly in hand. He turned his head and threw a sentence over his shoulder. "I expect that promise to be followed up, Gregory dear."

 **Okay…. Well that chapter was a bit longer than intended. I expected it to only be about 500-600 words. Instead, I got 1668 words of pure smut, with slight fluff. Crikey, my mind needs to leave the gutter at some point in my life. Not today, though!**

 **So… I'm going to start bribing readers to review. Office sex sound good? Lestrade's or Mycroft's? Maybe some fun times at 221B? Tell me ideas! Sometimes all it takes is five words and I'll write 4 or 5 chapters at once. As evidenced by today. I wrote four chapters, posted three of them at 1 in the morning, and this one at almost 12, thanks to a new reviewer.**

 **Loves anyways**


	9. Chapter 9-Having Some Good Times

**At this point, I'm thinking this will make a 10 chapter story at least. Wow, maybe I should write more Johnlock for my other story. Need to rewrite the smut there at least. Yeah better do that at some point.**

 **Revel in and review this chapter!**

It had been two days since Gregory had seen hide or hair of Mycroft Holmes. It had been 9 hours, 54 minutes, and 47 seconds since the last text from him. _48… 49… 50…_

Lestrade sat down heavily at his desk and ran his fingers through his short silver hair, mussing it. He wanted his lover with him, but it wasn't possible.

Or was it?

Lestrade straightened as an idea came to him. Grinning now, he grabbed his phone and put the plan in motion.

*1 hour later*

Mycroft groaned as a new stack of paperwork was shoved onto his desk. Normally he wouldn't mind, but he'd left Gregory alone for two days. He felt as if there was a rubber band connecting the DI and himself. It felt like it was pulling tighter and tighter with each minute that ticked by. He folded his arms and lay his head down on them, closing his eyes. Five minutes, he told himself, just five minutes.

His door creaked slowly open.

Greg stepped through, surprised Mycroft hadn't responded to his repeated knocks. "Mycroft," he whispered, peering around the office. He was startled to see the government official sleeping with his head on his desk. Smiling tenderly, the DI walked over, careful not to disturb Mycroft. He picked him up and carried him to the couch, pulling off both their clothes then laying down and arranging the taller man on top of him. Mycroft unconsciously nuzzled into Lestrade's chest and sighed, relaxing completely. Soon both of them were fast asleep, wrapped around each other.

The silver fox woke first, a couple of hours later. He didn't move except to place his hand in the reddish hair belonging to the head on his chest. Watching Mycroft sleep was most definitely a privilege.

Mycroft woke up at the slight touch, groaning and trying to pull his warm pillow closer. The pillow vibrated, laughing. Frowning, the British government lifted his head, looking up into warm chocolate eyes.

"Gregory? What are you doing here? What happened?"

The hand in his hair stroked softly, creating slight shivers that traveled down Mycroft's spine.

"Gregory?"

The DI sighed, then answered, "I came over because I hadn't seen you in two days, but I understand that you have important business here. So I contacted Anthea and she said you were backed up with paperwork and that it would help if I did come. When I did, she directed me to your office. You were in here, fast asleep on your desk. There was even some drool." Mycroft blushed as this was said. Lestrade continued, "I thought you'd be more comfortable here, and I was tired too, so I carried you over. Then I fell asleep with you. I just woke up a few minutes before you. You're adorable when you sleep, ya know that?"

Mycroft groaned and blushed, trying to bury his face in Gregory's chest. "I am not adorable."

The silver fox chuckled, his chest vibrating under Mycroft's cheek. "Oh, yes you are, Mycroft darling."

Mycroft just grunted and curled up, content to just lay there with his lover.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

The door opened, or rather shattered, to reveal a group of about 5 men, two of which were holding Anthea hostage. She looked murderous, but subdued. Only Mycroft would know she was faking it. Of course, Mycroft was rather distracted at the moment. As the couch faced the opposite way of the door, the men hadn't seen either of the lovers yet.

"See, I told you he was out. Look through his desk if you must, but don't make a mess. He's bad enough as it is already. And I have to clean!"

Greg had tightened his hold on Mycroft as soon as the door opened. When Anthea spoke, he placed a hand over the British government's mouth when he went to speak. A rough voice spoke next.

"Fine, let her go back to her typing."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. That was the worst thing they could do. What did they think, that even in this high-security place where top-secret information was quietly discussed, a secretary was just a dumb woman?

The "humph" Anthea gave as she most likely folded her arms agreed with his opinion of these men. Time to get into this fight. He went to sit up, but Gregory was still holding onto him.

"I've got a better idea than fighting," he whispered into Mycroft's ear.

Lifting an eyebrow, he waited for the explanation. None came, except Lestrade flipping them over and ripping clothes off.

Whatever Mycroft had expected, it was most definitely not this.

However, when he tried to wiggle out from underneath him, his DI growled and bit into his neck, holding him in place. The shuffling of papers on the other side of the desk stopped.

"What the hell was that? Thought that secretary woman said her boss wasn't here."

"It sounded like some kind of animal."

"Well, spread out and look for it!"

"What! No, I'm not getting eaten on your say-so. YOU go look for it."

"Sorry, boys, looking is no longer on the agenda." Anthea was back, armed and ready to kill if needed.

Mycroft flipped the two of them back over and stood, walking around to face the intruders and nodding at Anthea. Then he turned his icy glare onto the men.

"Well, my dear, it looks like we have some visitors." He spoke over his shoulder.

At this, Lestrade also stood and walked around, getting right up behind Mycroft and wrapping his arms around the man, pulling him back against his chest and staring over the redhead's shoulder. The intruders swallowed. They had not expected this.

"Anthea, would you be so kind as to get rid of them for us? Oh and replace the door. No one gets to see my love naked, especially while we play." The evil grin Mycroft gave made all 5 men shudder with horror. They had seen the silver-haired man naked. And now he was grinning maliciously, snuggling up behind the powerful man.

"Aw, darling, I love that you want to protect my innocence, but I don't want them to see YOU naked. That is for me only." Greg glared at the group as he spoke, making sure they cringed under the full force of his gaze.

Anthea rolled her eyes. "I think they were scared enough by two naked men walking around. The threats are a bit dramatic, don't you think?" She laughed as she spoke, completely joking, but it was noted she studiously kept her eyes away from her boss and his lover.

"Now leave. My assistant will take care of any complaints, if indeed you have any."

The men, scared out of their mind, quickly ran out the door.

"You're just going to let them go?" Greg was confused, but then realized, "Ah. Security."

"Yes, my dear. Now shall we get back to where we were?"

Lestrade grinned. "Not until we get a door. Or curtain. Something. I was serious. I don't anyone else to see this body."

Mycroft purred at that, arching back against the silver fox. "Oh, Gregory, I need you. Here, now."

Greg smiled against Mycroft's skin, but pulled back. "No."

Mycroft whined, pouting. "Why?"

"Door. Call a car, we can be back at my place in 15."

Mycroft hesitated, then spoke timidly, leaning against the wall for support. "Mine is closer. It's about 5 minutes by car, 7 if we walk."

Lestrade stopped in the middle of picking up his clothes. He stared at Mycroft, then slowly smiled as he saw the fear and hope mingled in the blue eyes.

"Darling, I'd love that, but only if you're ready for that." Mycroft nodded, giving assent. Suddenly his arms were full of wriggling detective inspector, and his mouth was being ravaged. They both moaned and were exploring each other's body again when Anthea walked in once more.

"Holy fuck, could you keep your hands off each other for two seconds? Mycroft, your brother's here."

Greg broke the kiss so Mycroft could tell her to let Sherlock in, but started snogging the British government as soon as his assistant left. They didn't stop till after Sherlock, tired of waiting at the door and trying not to see the dry humping going on, yelled at them.

"Mycroft, Gavin, stop that. It's disgusting! I did not want to see you two going at it like rabbits!"

As soon as their lips separated, Greg turned to the younger Holmes and smirked, saying, "So it's only disgusting when it's not John?"

 **So, thoughts?**


	10. Chapter 10-Get To The Point Already

Greg slowly awoke from sleep, blinking his eyes to clear them. He was wrapped around something warm. When he looked down, he saw auburn hair and blue eyes looking back at him. He chuckled.

"Hello, darling. Beautiful morning, isn't it?"

Mycroft smiled sleepily and answered, the roughness in his voice telling Lestrade he had only just woken.

"Only around you."

Greg chuckled again, running his fingers through Mycroft's short hair. "I don't know why that would be, but from what I see, it definitely is beautiful."

Mycroft caught his breath as he finally understood what Gregory was trying to say. Groaning in embarrassment, he buried his head in Gregory's chest and grumbled, "I'm not beautiful, you twat."

"Not that I don't necessarily believe you, but I don't believe you."

He was rewarded for that statement when the government official bit his nipple. Yelping, he nonetheless felt his cock harden even more. It had been hard when he woke up, partially from his morning erection and partially from Mycroft's smooth and warm body pressed up against him.

"Oh, I see. There's another part of your anatomy that begs my attention isn't there, Gregory dear."

Lestrade moaned as Mycroft's mouth made the journey south, stopping to nibble on his skin and swirl his tongue in Greg's bellybutton, making him giggle. He stopped for a moment in surprise, then continued after a single comment.

"Oo, you're ticklish."

"No.. MYCROFT… stop it," Gregory gasped out between giggles.

This went on for several minutes, only stopping when Lestrade pulled Mycroft's head away by his hair and growled in his general direction. Mycroft grinned and slid down, settling between Gregory's legs to tease his cock with his hot breath.

The silver fox groaned and tightened his grip on the dark red strands, shoving the British government down. Mycroft grinned then did as Greg wanted, taking his cock into his mouth and slowly suckling, bobbing up and down, occasionally deep-throating him. If the moans emitted from his lover's body were any estimate, he liked Mycroft's technique just fine.

Greg's body was tensing, but as he was just about to come, Mycroft pulled away.

"FUCK, why the hell did you do that?!"

Mycroft smiled at the outburst, wiggling up the tanned body until he could reach the perfect lips. "I wanted to do this instead," he whispered, smashing their lips together. If Lestrade's growl and rolling hips were any indication, he liked this just as well as the blowjob. The DI's fingers were stretching Mycroft's hole to take him as they snogged.

Finally Lestrade flipped him, pulling him up to his hands and knees. "Alright, my little cock slut, you wanted it, so you're gonna get it." Then he started pounding into Mycroft's hole, hitting his prostate with each thrust. Mycroft came all over the sheets on the third hit, screaming out Gregory's name, over and over again. The DI came a few seconds later, growling Mycroft's name into his ear. They collapsed, tired out but satisfied, cuddling as they slipped into sleep.

 **Yeah, yeah, yeah, short I know. Short and sweet, I'd say. Or short and hard in this case. ;) Gotta love them dirty jokes!**


	11. Chapter 11-That's All She Wrote

**Okay, so this is probably the last chapter. You know, I'm actually glad that this one didn't go as fast as Johnlockness. I'll be updating that one at some point. For any followers who are reading this story, I might as well tell you this will probably be the last story until late August. School gets out next week and I've been working on my school computer. There's a shared one at our house, but I'm not writing smut or even fluff where my mom can find it.**

 **Anyhoo, hope you like the final chapter of Mystrade In A Nutshell!**

"Gregory Lestrade?" the jeweler called as he exited the back room. The DI jumped and turned, smiling to see his old friend.

"Hey, Darren, how are you doing?" he spoke as he tried to calm his nerves.

The jeweler smiled back and answered, "Oh, I'm better than I deserve. What do you need?"

Leave it to Darren to get straight to the point. He'd always been that way, even back in uni where they'd met. Shaking his head quickly, Greg snapped himself out of his thoughts and hesitantly explained what he wanted. Darren nodded along, seemingly not caring that the ring was for a male. Good, Lestrade thought.

He left the store about an hour later, patting his pocket to make sure the ring was secure. He didn't register the long, black car sitting outside until the door opened and Mycroft hurried out.

"Mycroft?" Gregory had to ask, before getting tackled to the ground by the redhead.

"Gregory! You evaded my security detail! I couldn't find you! What happened?" The government babbled on, holding Lestrade tight against him. Chuckling, the DI detangled himself and stood, offering a hand to the slightly taller man. Once they were both on their feet, Greg simply asked if they could talk in the car. He saw the fear in his lover's eyes, but he nodded anyways.

After they were seated in the back of the vehicle and it was back in traffic, the silver fox merely pulled the redhead close to him and started a snogging session. It was intense, slow, and perfect. Mycroft melted into the DI, making his favorite mewls and whimpers. Suddenly, Mycroft pulled away, panting but fearful.

"What are you doing?"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Snogging you. Is there a problem?"

Mycroft obviously was trying to figure something out. "Um…"

Lestrade laughed. "Do I have the power of making the British government speechless?"

The government official smacked him in the arm, saying, "I only occupy a minor position in the government. I do not run it, regardless of popular opinion."

Lestrade was still chuckling. "Yes, darling, whatever you say. I definitely believe you."

Mycroft was pouting, then frowned, his mind returning to the original problem. "Weren't you going to break up with me?"

Gregory frowned, telling Mycroft he'd said something wrong.

"What the hell are you saying? Why would you think I was breaking up with you? Love, I never want to leave you, but if it's what you want, I will. Just tell me why."

Mycroft hadn't even heard the last half of whatever Gregory was saying. His brain was stuck on one word, _Love._

"Is it true?" he suddenly demanded.

The DI looked startled. "What?"

"Do you really love me? Am I really your love?"

Relaxing, Lestrade nodded. "Of course you are. Is that what was bothering you? Darling, I've loved you since we met. I love everything about you. Would you like a list?"

Mycroft hesitated then nodded, snuggling closer to his DI.

Greg smiled and stroked his love's hair as he talked. "I love this hair. It looks brown inside, but the red is discovered by the sun and glows brightly. I love your eyes, so blue and expressive. I can always tell what you're feeling if I can see your eyes." His other hand reached around and squeezed Mycroft's bicep. "The muscles, here and elsewhere, are such a surprise. You don't look like you would be strong, but I can personally attest that you are indeed very toned and well-muscled." His hand slid away, pulling Mycroft over to sit in his lap. As he continued, he touched each body part he mentioned.

"I love your legs, the way they wrap around my waist when I'm fucking you into the mattress. I love this stomach that tenses when you come and cry out for me. I love this arse. It can take such a pounding, but still welcomes my cock and holds it tight. I love your cock. It is so beautiful and long and hot and perfect, and someday I hope I can feel it deep in me." Mycroft's gasp and groan made Greg grin. "I love your brain, your mind. The way it connects dots that are invisible to us lower beings and comes up with workable solutions to an impossible situation. But most of all, I love this heart, that beats with mine and, I hope, loves me as well."

There was silence for a few minutes as they kissed before Mycroft broke away to breathe into Lestrade's ear, "It does."

Greg smiled, but when the government official moved back in, he placed a finger on the other's lips to stop him.

"I haven't said my favorite part yet." Mycroft looked curious, but nodded, indicating for him to continue.

"My absolute favorite part of you, that I love the most, is your hands." At the surprised look his lover gave him, Greg continued. "And I love it even more with a little addition." He pulled out the ring box and opened it. "So Mycroft Holmes, will you do me a favor and marry me?"

Mycroft had one hand at his throat, his eyes wet. Despite what he and everyone else said, Mycroft did have feelings, but the only one he expressed them to was Gregory. That made everything more special.

Greg was so deep in his thoughts he missed what the redhead had said.

"What, darling?"

"I said yes."

An intense snogging session began, as Lestrade had attacked the other man when he answered. They didn't break apart until the car was stopped in front of Mycroft's house, and only then to get out. Their mouths rejoined as they rushed to get inside, out of the rain that had started. Only when they were inside, did Mycroft push Gregory up against the door and break the connection, a single strand of saliva still linking them.

"I love you, Gregory dear."

Greg smiled. "I love you too, Mycroft darling."

 **So… I'm pretty sure I cried when this ended. Not because of the feels, but because it's finally ending. It was time. Crap, I feel like I'm talking at a funeral. Loves to Thilbo4Ever, my faithful reader and reviewer and favorite sociopath. And the rest of you readers, who I don't know. Another story may be coming in a few months, but it has to wait till after school starts again.**

 **See you all next story!**

 **~CherokeeWind**

 **EDIT: Does anyone know of a good British beta I could use? And how this whole beta thing works? I need a proofreader and I'm American, which means I have no idea of how to speak/write proper English. PM me or tell me in a review. Thanks!**

 **~CherokeeWind**


	12. Ondatra zibethicus-This Is Your Answer

**Okay so real quick I'm going to answer a statement one reviewer made. I'm sure it was bugging my other readers too. Bugged me too till I figured it out.**

 **Yes, Mycroft is somewhat passive in their relationship. I know he's pretty proud and self-reliant and all that fun stuff in the show, and here it seems he's, well, more of a scared kid. But who isn't afraid when going into their first relationship? He doesn't know anything about this, and not knowing scares him. It scares me. Plus, in the government position Mycroft has, he would have to be the epitome of confidence and certainty, presenting his solutions as the only correct one. But nobody is always confident and certain of themselves, regardless of what others think. I'm trying to portray Mycroft as an actual human being, afraid of the unknown, uncertain, that sort of thing. In all honesty, this story wrote itself. I had no part except typing it out.**

 **Another thought that just occurred to me. I think maybe who I was thinking of when I was writing Mycroft was myself. First off, I've never been in a romantic relationship. Secondly, I appear very confident and composed on the outside, so much so that everyone assumes I know it all. Really, though, I freak out a lot. At least once daily. There are only a few people I show that too. Maybe Mycroft's the same way. It's hard to trust someone that much, especially if you've had your trust broken by somebody you really trusted.**

 **And there are times when you really just need to let control go.**

 **So, there you go. A three paragraph answer as to why Mycroft is fairly passive in the relationship.**

 **EDIT: Just went over my stories again, read this, and started giggling. Goodness I really waxed philosophical or something!**


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